Breathe for Love Tomorrow
by bl00dymary
Summary: Out of my head, evil angel, with your wicked schemes and empty bed, you fall asleep on a broken whim, and now we're all just born to sin, but I lay awake, our dreams too sweet, too tall, I never forget what you said to me, "even the stars have to fall."
1. Even angels have their wicked schemes

It wasn't that I wanted to die. It was just that I was so sick of the shit that was happening inside my head. Things always were like that, ever since I could remember and I knew certain things that no one else knew. I had secrets, you know, secrets that made me different from everyone else. It made me feel hopeless, as if I were standing on a table in a room filled to the brim of people, just screaming, screaming, screaming, but no one even looked up. I didn't know it this was like that for everyone, if everyone felt that way, but if they did, why didn't anyone look up?

As human beings, we are so designed to be only consumed with whatever shit is going on within us, but isn't it also our job to communicate with others, even if we don't want to and it'd be easier to just ignore them. We have feelings built into us, feelings like empathy and love and care, for a reason, right? It just only seemed that I was the only one who had those feelings, the only one who looked up, the only one who screamed, the only one that was even feeling anything at all.

It was an oxy-moron, at its finest. I cared too much, yet I was a first grade sociopath.

"Get your fucking face away from me, you _bitch_!"

I dug my teeth into the nurse's arm, and she squealed. I let out an angry, almost infantile scream, throwing my breakfast tray away from me. I often had fits like this in the morning.

The morning always made me sad, always made me feel hopeless. Everyone always said that the morning was just a new beginning, a new time to make up for things we had done in the past and right our wrongs, but I viewed it differently. I saw it as another inenvitable fuck-up day, to further unhinge myself into this maddening world.

"Honey, please, let me just see your arm. I have to check your vitals and make sure-"

"No! Get the fuck away from me, bitch! I don't want to hear your stupid fucking voice! La, la, la, la, la!" I sang, covering my ears and remaining cross-legged on the floor.

It was a usual thing for me to have fits in the morning. My doctor didn't know why, neither did my therapist or psychiatrist or any other college trained dipshit in this place. The place known as Merryweather Clinic, an adolescent Psychiatric Ward. It was a place where the really crazy went, the hopeless teenagers that were murderers and shit. I didn't murder anyone. Yet.

"Oh, for God's _sake_. Esmeralda, quit biting the new nurse and get the fuck off the floor before I call in Doctor Paterson and he has his way with your skinny ass."

The only nurse I actually grew to like, sort of, was Alaina. She was this heavy black nurse from Georgia and she didn't tolerate any bullshit. The rest of the nurses here were either young, pretty little nurses out of the nurse factory who didn't know what they were doing, or the ones that were too afraid to talk to me.

That was pretty much everyone, except Alaina.

I stopped screaming, took my hands off my ears and smiled at the new nurse that was now whimpering in the corner, holding her newly scarred arm. She looked at me with so much fear that I thought she was going to admit herself into this loony bin. Alaina rolled her eyes as I stood up, turning my devilish grin to her sassy face.

"_Oooooh_. That sounds quite sexy, but I don't fuck old fat men." Alaina, again, let out a sigh and rolled her eyes. She always did that with me. She was the last person to take me seriously.

"Holly, go back and check on the patients in rooms five and six. I should have known better than to let you start your first day with the craziest bitch in here." She said, clucking her tongue. Holly, the new pretty, little nurse, scurried off, with tears in her pretty, little blue eyes.

"Bye, Holly!" I waved, cheerfully.

She looked back, and broke out into a sob. Classic.

"All right, she-devil, open up." I smiled, sarcastically, and opened my mouth for Alaina. She checked my throat and sighed. "You keep screaming like that, you're going to ruin that pretty little voice of yours."

I said nothing and let her take my blood pressure. I hummed to myself, which the other nurses found even more horrifying, but Alaina didn't care. Sometimes she even hummed along with me.

"Why you got to scare all my interns, Esmeralda? Holly's real sensitive too, oh good Lord. She's probably gone to quit now." I glared at her, fiercely. She sighed.

"Sorry. _Emma." _I stopped glaring and shrugged.

My legal name was Esmeralda Angelina Jane Rowe, but only my whore of a mother called me Esmeralda, because she named me after her and the dipshit that was my doctor insisted on calling me that as well. I wanted nothing to do with that skank, so ever since I could walk, I made everyone call me Emma. My mother found it insulting, but I found it even more insulting to name me after such a cock-sucking whore.

I shook her from my mind, knowing that road wasn't worth going down. I began to think about the scared, little nurse I just bit. Oh, God, that was fun. I giggled to myself as I rocked back and forth on my bed.

That made this morning particularly good.

"She smelled like a hooker." I commented, a very beats later. Alaina rolled her eyes again and began to take blood.

"I wouldn't be surprised. These poor girls got to come here all day, barely make anything, and then go to their shitty jobs. Gotta talk to Paterson about raising their wages, especially if they got to deal with crazies like you all day." I stuck out my tongue and watched, intently, as she drew blood.

It was my only favorite thing about the morning. When the nurses took blood from me, it was probably the only time I was silent and not making a fuss. To be honest, making a fuss was so much fun for me, to watch all those nurses go insane and Doctor Paterson to come in with his nerdy, big glasses and stained suits and ask me the same question he has been asking me for the past year: "Esmeralda, why?" I didn't know why, I didn't know why at all. It was fun, I suppose, to make people listen to me. To be the one to cause the trouble, to be remembered as the ultimate crazy in here. I mean, if you weren't going to embrace the crazy in you in a fucking mental hospital, then when? It was comical to me.

But god, when Alaina drew blood, it was so perfect the way she did it. I felt no pain at all, as the blood filled up the small, narrow tube and I wished myself to be lost in it forever. I loved blood so much, the warmth it had once it came out of your body, and how pure and real it was. Everything else in this lifetime is so full of shit, you know, so full of fake, little lies that people tell you to make their own lives seem more interesting.

But blood, blood was literally a part of you that would never be unreal. It was beautiful.

"Breakfast is ready. I, of course, get to be the lucky one to escort you down there, since you're being kicked out of the group today, once again." She gave me a look and I smiled back at her, shrugging.

"What did you do this time?"

"Mouthed off to Sherry Dipshit." Sherry was our music teacher and the corniest, energetic little pop tart shit I've ever met in my entire life. She was far too peppy and I wanted to punch her.

"Mmhmm, is that so? What did she do?"

"She was trying to make me sing along, but I refused. Long story short, I kicked her in the face."

Alaina gave me my arm back and packed away her medical weapons, as I like to call them. She gave me a really long, serious look and sighed, _"If you keep scaring away everyone that tries to help you, you're going to be left with no one."_

I shrugged again. I smiled. "So? I'll have me, and I _love _me." Alaina smiled at me, all knowing, like she did to me all the time. It was true that Alaina was wise and smart and all that shit, and she was the only one to challenge me, too. I liked her for that.

"One of these days, you're going to scare yourself, too, little girl. And then you'll have no one." She got off my bed, fixing her pale blue scrubs and looked back at me before exiting.

"I'll be right back. Remember, security is always watching." I rolled my eyes as she left the room and looked up to the camera that was in my room. They only installed it in my room, because of how many times I've tried to break out. I've lost track of how many times, but every time I did manage to get out, I always came back somehow.

I'd live on the street, homeless and cold for days, fucking any guy I could to give me enough money to get a plane ticket to sunny San Francisco. That's where my dad lived, the only one who actually cared about me. My mom, older brother, Oliver and little half sister, Tessa, all think I'm some sort of devil. Like, literally. They think I'm that freaky Exorcist girl, that my soul is just possessed by the devil. My batshit crazy mother actually tried to get a priest to throw holy water on me.

Crazy doesn't fall far from the tree.

Some undercover cop or something always arrested me. I couldn't keep my temper on the streets, especially when some guys didn't pay me nearly as much as we agreed on, or when some other whore tried to steal my corner. I've put a few of them in the hospital, but the men who I've challenged always put me in the hospital first, because I was fierce, but some dicks were just quicker. I'd always come back to this horrible place, the place that became my home for so long. It was a place where no one should actually call home, but jesus, it was mine. I haven't actually been to my house, my actual house, in three years. My mother stopped visiting a long time ago, even though Oliver visits me sometimes. I never see Tessa, not if my mother can help it. I missed her.

Whenever I thought about my mother, I always became enraged. The cocksucker was a drunk when I was born and threw my dad out, because he caught _her _with another man in _their _bed. He was going to move out anyway, but the fact that _she _kicked _him _out was something I just never forgave her for. I was only around four and Oliver was ten or so, but my mother always seemed to favor Oliver and Tessa over me.

I was the unwanted middle child, I suppose, the troubled kid that got into fights at school and never did as she was told. She sometimes beat me, used her cruel words against me, but I always prevailed. She ended up becoming sober when she met good old Harry West, a corporate lawyer/Super Jesus Freak Minister with a shitload of money. He was yuppie douchebag and couldn't see that my mother was just fucking him for the money.

We moved out of the shithole we lived in into his beautiful mansion on the most expensive part of town and that was that. A new family, a new life, I suppose, that all just screamed bullshit. They had Tessa, her new perfect, little daughter, and the rest seemed to be history. I stayed out of the house as much as I could, fucking around, doing drugs and always getting suspended in school. My mother gave up on my existence a long time ago, she said, ever since she met the dick minister.

It was comical to me that she went from being a trashy, no-good whore to a corporate, all religious housewife that had bible prayer sessions at our house with deviled eggs and tea. I want to vomit in my mouth when I think about her, what she is and how I will _never _be like that. I'm convinced. I want her to burn in hell, along with her new, fantasy life that was caked in bullshit.

She sent me here, after other reasons and events, and forgot all about me. It wasn't good _status _to have your daughter in a fucking mental hospital, I suppose. I haven't seen her in a year. Our last session was the same old thing, me calling her a classless whore that still likes to fuck around and her crying, asking Doctor Paterson why I'm like that.

She pulled the whole, "I raised you, you're my daughter!" thing on me, to which I always replied, nonchalantly, "You never gave two shits about my existence, Greta, but thanks for playing." She hated it when I called her Greta. It was her middle name and her mother's name. Yeah, my grandmother and I had one thing in common: we both hated the cocksucker.

I kept looking at the camera and just wondered if anyone else was staring back at me in the security room. Everyone on this God for saken staff knew me, knew me as the longest patient in here. People came and went, getting better, finding their own personal haven or some shit, and got to go home to better things. They moved on with their lives, or at least got better at lying to themselves that anything in this lifetime is actually real.

They moved on to their boring, average jobs and choked on their average, mediocre lifestyle while I sat here, caged, but yet freer than all of them combined. I was never in chains, never chained to any part of this life. I was the freest person I knew and if all else failed in my life, which, let's be serious, will, at least I know I'll have that.

Alaina came back and looked at me. "Are you just going to sit there looking stupid, or what?" I crossed my arms over my chest, still sitting on my bed.

"I'm not hungry."

"Emma."

"If you don't get out of here in ten seconds, I'll kill you."

"That shit don't work on me. You know that."

This was an ongoing battle with Alaina. It was her job, along with the other dipshits in here, to make sure I eat three meals a day, but they always failed.

I never felt hungry, at all in fact. I went days on end without food and my stomach wouldn't growl at all. It's always been that way with me. I was pretty underweight for a seventeen-year-old girl, weighing only about ninety-three pounds, but that didn't bother me. I didn't like food. As a kid, my mother never had dinner for me, and I always made it for myself. I had to buy my own, cook it and all that, so I guess it just never stuck with me. Sometimes, we were so poor that we couldn't afford food, so I would go on days without eating. People noticed, but I didn't care. I just didn't. Food always came up on me, anyway, and I hated throwing up. Doctor Paterson diagnosed me with anorexia last year, but he's a dipshit. I don't like food.

"Do you want me to call Doctor Paterson?" I smiled, shrugging.

"I guess that's what you'll have to do. Call Doctor Shithead, go head, but I'll remind you that it is my own right not to eat." I retorted, making that weird vein in Alaina's forehead stick out. I giggled. I love making that vein pop out.

"And I'll remind _you _that after five PM, on the dot, I am not on duty as a nurse no more and nothing will keep me from grabbing your raggedy ass out of that bed and force feeding you some goddamn food." I widened my grin, laying back and putting my arms out to support my head.

"I look forward to that, Alaina. Close the door on your way out." She huffed and exited my room, mumbling something about me being a crazy bitch under her breath. I began to laugh out loud, fully enjoying this, but then I heard a scream.

"NO! NO! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE, GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME!" That was a new voice. Oh, goody.

I always enjoyed comical theater. I jumped up, going over to open my door. There, in the hallway, Alaina and a bunch of guy nurses were trying to control some crazy teenage kid. My eyes examined him.

He was quite tall, wearing a black shirt and black jeans. He wore a black hoodie over him, but it began to fall off as he thrashed around in the nurses' arms. He had shaggy, long-ish dirty blonde hair and his eyes. Fuck, as I looked into his eyes, they were the blackest I've ever seen. They were full on demonic, which was intriguing. He looked about my age, possibly older, but he was strong. He even knocked Danny, the buff male nurse, down on the ground. He held onto his head, his hands tearing at his hair that fell in his eyes.

"_GET OUT OF MY HEAD, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"_

My eyes widened as Doctor Paterson rushed over, carrying a syringe and just like that, with one stick of a needle, the kid blinked a few times and fell on the floor. I watched, in awe, as the nurses took him away to the "quiet room", also known as the straightjacket room.

There really wasn't any straight jacket, but it was a room with a single, gross bed that was gross on purpose and cement walls. I've been put in there far too many times, and it really was horrifying. I've been in that for hours, even a full day, and at the end of it, your head feels as if it is going to float away with your thoughts.

After the nurses calmed all the other crazy patients and Danny got taken to the infirmary, Doctor Paterson looked at me. He was tall, but fat, and bald. He wore his huge rim glasses on the tip of his nose and had the same tone of voice.

Bored and bored.

"Esmeralda, Alaina told me you're refusing to eat."

"What the _fuck _was that?"

"Esmeralda."

"No, seriously. Who the fuck was that?"

Doctor Paterson sighed, used to my off-putting talent.

"He's a new patient. Now, let's-"

"Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. What's his name, why is he here?" I always wanted to know first hand whom I was dealing with. Some motherfuckers liked to think they were going to own the place. They were sadly mistaken.

"Esmeralda, you know I can't conceal that information." I rolled my eyes and smiled, stepping up to Doctor Paterson. I touched his face, caressing his cheek and bit down on my lip.

"Oh, come on, Sheldon. Be a rule breaker."

"Esmeralda! Please!" He exclaimed, all flustered and red. I laughed out loud. As if I would ever fuck him. It'd be like fucking a fat salamander.

He let out a harsh sigh and stared at me. "You know what this means. Alaina will walk you down to the cafeteria and supervise you the entire time and will make sure you eat at least two bites. Either that, or the quiet room all day." I rolled my eyes, putting my hands on my hips.

"Oh, really? Seems like Norman Bates Junior will be keeping that place occupio, Sheldon."

"Esmeralda, how many times how I told you? Do not speak to me in that familiarity, please."

"And how many times have I told _you _that my name is Emma and not Esmeralda?"

Doctor Paterson sighed, giving me a stern look.

"Alaina will be right back. Stay in your room."

I rolled my eyes, as he began to walk away. I didn't realize some of the other patients were looking at me. They all were deathly afraid of me, refused to talk to me or look at me. They liked to stare at me, though, like I was some freak in an exhibit. I tilted my head to the side and smiled, sweetly.

The twin girls across the hall, Julie and Olivia, were fifteen and bulimic. Julie was _select _mute, which really just meant she didn't talk to anyone, unless she wanted to, and was a sour bitch. I sort of liked her. She was the only one not actually afraid of me. Olivia, on the other hand, was the perfect, skinny blonde girl who fell from grace. She was always positive, always contributing in group and scribbling down notes. She was also terrified of me.

"Hey, girlfriends!" They glared at me, Julie puffing out her cigarette smoke.

A nurse came by, taking it out of her mouth. "Julie, no smoking in here!" "Get the hell out of my face, bitch!" Julie shot back and I smiled, amused.

"Oooooh. Looks like little Julie is actually _speaking _for once. Don't worry, Rita, at least you got her to speak." I said to the nurse and she half smiled at me, walking away.

Julie glared at me and went back into her room. Olivia stared at me, nervously, but smiled. "How are you doing today, Emma?" I smiled, sarcastically, and leaned casually on my doorframe.

"I'm fanfuckingtastic, Olivia. How are you?" She sensed my sarcasm and looked down, her smile gone. "I'm okay."

"Hmm, looks like you've been eating a bit more, huh?" Her head shot up right away, her blue eyes wide. This was too good, I couldn't resist.

"What are talking about?"

"Well, I'm just saying. You look..._bigger._" Words all bulimics hated to hear. She looked down at herself and blinked a few times.

"D-D-Doctor Parson said I...I only gained two pounds..."

I tsked, shrugging.

"I don't know. Seems more like _five." _Her eyes went to marbles as she broke down sobbing, slamming the door behind her as she did so.

As for me, I just laughed out loud. That was fun.

"All right, I'm here. Let's go," Alaina said, her tone of voice clearly annoyed. I smiled widely and took a cigarette carton out of my pocket that I told from the nurse's station. They were Alaina's one vice, and her eyes lit up and widened when she saw them. Gotcha.

"Okay, but first, a quick smoke, _Lainie_?" Alaina attempted to grab it away from me, but I snatched it. I knew Lainie was the pet name her boyfriend had for her. She was loud on the phone.

"Ah, ah, ah. All these cigarettes could be yours at the low, low price of keeping your mouth shut about me not eating." Alaina stared at me, then at the cigarettes, and then at me.

"Fine. Just gimme the goddamn cigs." I smiled, handing them over, but not pulling away. Alaina tugged at them, as I tugged back, screwing with her. I finally let go, still grinning wide, as she glared. She put the carton in her pocket, while I began to skip down the hallway.

"Moooooorning, Torch!" I exclaimed, skipping passed Courtney, a thirteen-year-old burned victim. The whole right side of her face was burnt off. S

he set herself on fire when she was eleven after her mother took away her kitten. I nicknamed her Torch the day she came here. She hates it, as do all the other doctors because it's technically abuse, but after a while, she just didn't protest anymore. She was a sweet kid. I guess some part of me felt badly.

"Hi, Emma. Heading down to breakfast with Alaina again?" I smiled at her angelic, sweet voice.

"Yep! Hey, I'll save you a seat!" I exclaimed, continuing to skip. I slowed down after multiple demands from Alaina, and then began to walk as if slow motion, just to piss her off.

I stopped fucking around when I heard a strangled cry come from the quiet room as we passed it. The door was slightly opened, Doctor Paterson and some other nurses inside, examining the new kid. I raised my eyebrows and stared at him, and I swear, for a moment, he looked up and stared right back at me. His eyes, they were jet black, and empty. I almost shivered. Just like mine.

"So, what's the shit on the newbie?" I asked Alaina, as we rounded the corner. She sighed. Alaina didn't like talking to me, but she loved to gossip. I always got the dish on everyone from her.

"Apparently, he tried to commit suicide, after trying to kill some of his classmates. He didn't, though. Brought the gun in and held them hostile and everything. But he had some sort of mental breakdown during it, and couldn't do it. Sign of a good person, though," Alaina said, the last part with sadness. I scoffed, rolling my eyes.

"More like sign of _weakass. _I would have loved to shoot up my entire school. Just burn the entire fucking place down." I shared, and Alaina nodded, slowly.

"Well, you're different." I paused and smiled, sardonically. She might as well say, _Yeah, you're different, because you're not a good person. _Maybe I wasn't, maybe I was. I didn't know anymore.

"Why is he in the girls' ward anyway?"

"The boys' ward is under going construction, so they're transferring the boys upstairs. They're going to have to room with you guys, because of not having enough rooms. Thank you, government funding. Oh, Jesus. That just means triple overtime," Alaina complained, as we began to walk into the cafeteria.

I smiled. I could use a good fuck.

Alaina stopped dead in her tracks as I began to walk in. She pulled me back by my shirt.

"Hey, hey, hey, Missy! I saw that smile! What the hell are you thinking?" I kept smiling and pretended to be innocent and sweet, shrugging.

"Oh, _Lainie. _What ever do you _mean?" _She kept glaring, her hands on her big hips.

"Don't screw with me, crazy girl. When those boys come upstairs, don't think for one minute that I'm going to let you go off and seduce one of them. I'll be keeping an eye on you, mmmhmmm!" She exclaimed, giving me her famous evil eye.

I shrugged, pretending to have no idea what she was inferring. "Oh, Alaina, little old me? I _never _get into trouble!" She growled and turned me around, pushing me toward Marta, the sweet, little old lunch lady. She was the only one I didn't fuck with. You can't fuck with old, cute people.

As I greeted Marta and gathered my cereal, I began to think more about the newbie. It actually was pretty interesting, his entire back-story. Almost shooting up his school, trying to commit suicide. That was something I knew too well. I plopped down at our table and sighed. I stared at Alaina, who had brought a magazine with her and was reading intently.

"Why do I have to eat breakfast in an empty cafeteria with you hovering over me like I'm some goddamn bird in a cage?" Alaina flipped the page, nonchalantly.

"Maybe because you don't eat." I stared down at my cereal and sighed. "Alaina?"

"Mmmhmm?"

"What's the newbie's name?" It came out of nowhere, from someone who wasn't known to care. Alaina, of course, lowered her magazine and stared at me for a full minute.

"Why you want to know?"

I shrugged. "Because I'm a mass murderer and I want to stalk him, track him down, and murder him." I paused, Alaina's face, clearly not amused.

"I don't know, I just want to know his fucking name!"

Alaina leaned back in her chair, going right back to her magazine. "Uh, I think it's Tate. Yeah, uh, Tate Langdon. He's from where you lived. In Sandchester." I scoffed a little bit.

"That's unfortunate. His name is _Tate?_ Like, _taint _with the 'in'"? I chuckled. Alaina nodded. I didn't say anything and just looked down at my bowl. I began to think about this weirdo, _Tate Langdon, _and how he had almost murdered a few of his classmates, but he didn't.

I wondered what kind of pussy would do that, why he would even want to murder those kids to begin with, and what held him back. I know I would have, because I don't care, but it was interesting to me. It was weak, stupid, yet interesting. Not a lot of people caught my attention, but this kid did for some odd reason. I didn't know why. Maybe because his eyes were empty like me, or because he kind of looked like Kurt Cobain on a rampage. I didn't know.

But I wanted to find out.


	2. This homebody doesn't need anybody

**Thanks so much for the response on this! I'm really happy a lot of you like it. Just so everyone knows, the character of Emma is the complete opposite of me and just a figement of my imagination. I mean, she's very cynical, sarcastic and whatnot, but I'm not a sociopath or any of that shit. I just find the whole psychology of sociopaths and mental hospitals to be extremely interesting. I was really inspired by the film, _Girl, Interrupted, _and Angelina Jolie's character, Lisa Rowe. Emma's last name is Rowe, so I just wanted to drop that little hint. Thank you so much for the reviews and feedback! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and keep the feedback coming. I have so much planned for this story. ;) -Beth**

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><p>Alaina decided to let me go back to group therapy, considering I was corporative during breakfast with her. Yeah, that and the little bribe with the cigarettes from earlier did the trick. The thing was that I'm a great people pusher and I know exactly how to get what I want when I want it. I know everyone's hot button topic and I push them and I push them. They beg for it to be pressed, just beg for it, and I press them until they crumble over and explode. It was amusing to me, fascinating actually.<p>

People weren't as complicated as they led on. People wanted their lives to be complicated, wanted things to be shitty for them, because in that way, they can make excuses for their actions and their entire personality. Life isn't complicated at all. People make it difficult, become delusional and lie to themselves.

We're all liars, no matter what. We lie to ourselves constantly.

I never did. I always told myself the truth, no matter what it was, because I didn't want to be fake and phony like that, especially to myself. I tell how it is, not how it should be, and if people get their feelings hurt, fuck them. They deserve to be told the truth than some bullshit lie. It reminded me of my own mother, how she just caked over all the things in her life that made her uncomfortable, made her feel bad, even. I know that's why she doesn't visit me anymore and pretends that I don't exist in daily life. Oliver once told me when he came to visit that she tells everyone I stole from her and the minister and so she kicked me out. That made her look like the innocent victim, like she was the one who had been betrayed. It made my blood boil.

People run from things they don't want to face, but my life was so rotten with bullshit that running away or lying just never seemed good enough. I knew it would come back to me and plus, I liked freeing people with the truth. It set them free, and I knew they would thank me for it someday. Maybe, maybe not, but hey, I wasn't holding my breath.

I didn't really care either way. People are terrible fucking monsters, the worst kind of monsters because they pretend they're all sweetness and life, all good and contrite. They're a wolf in sheep's clothing and my job in life is to out those bitches. That was my favorite.

"Esmeralda, how good of you to join us. Go ahead, sit down," Marilyn, our main group coordinator greeted me as I walked in. I gave her a sarcastic, sweet smile and sat down on the couch.

Group was pretty much the worst thing in the entire world. We all had to sit in his freezing ass cold room and talk about whatever the fuck was bothering us. Inside, it was the usual bunch: Torch, Olivia and Julie, Colleen, who was a rich, spoiled sixteen year old bitch that was in here for pathological lying (amongst other things-her rich daddy and her were very close, if you know what I mean) and Beth, who only got to come to this group once a week from the all girls' prison a few towns over from Merryweather. Beth was nineteen and a crazy fucking psycho, but I loved to mess with her.

She was a paranoid schizophrenic who had murdered her best friend with a sledgehammer. She's sentenced to the prison's mental hospital until she's at least twenty-one, because of her mental stability, but I liked to call bullshit on that.

No matter who you are, what your "disability" is, you know what the fuck you're doing if you beat someone to death with a sledgehammer. I liked to give her shit about it, make her feel bad, until she has one of her episodes and is removed. Of course, I got time in the quiet room, but still. It was worth it.

"_Hiya_, ladies!" I exclaimed as I sat down, cross-legged and comfortable. The mood in the room instantly went cold, tense, because of me. I lived off that fear, that tension. I liked to scare people, make them hurt and feel pain when I felt they deserved it. I wanted them to suffer like I have suffered.

They all mumbled a hello, but it was the stupid bitch, Colleen, who had spoken up. "Why is she coming back here, Alaina? She cursed off Sherry yesterday!" I smiled at her.

"Aww, come on, Colly, don't be that way. I think our cheeky back and forth is sort of cute, don't you?" She glared at me as I just kept grinning wide, that devilish grin that drove some crazy.

Especially Colleen.

"Colleen, please. We welcome everyone in the group and besides; Emma was very corporative at breakfast. We all should learn to give second chances," Mary calmly said, embracing that hippie nonsense she loves to babble on about.

"Yeah, come on, Col, second chances!" I exclaimed, tilting my head to the side as she played, furiously, with her perfect blonde hair. She scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Whatever. If she starts shit with me, I'm leaving. This group is retarded anyway," Colleen said and Mary nodded.

"And why do you say that, Colleen?"

I smiled, even wider. "Yeah, Colleen. Why _ever_ so?" The sound of my voice, the mere sound of taunting, made her blood boil and I just wanted to laugh out loud. It was killing her that I was in here, I knew. She hated me and that felt great.

"Oh, I don't know. Maybe because everyone in this fucking place has _officially_ lost their shit!" She exclaimed, her voice cracking at the end. I rolled my eyes, leaning back and stretching. Olivia, next to me, had red eyes and she looked horrified that she had to be the one sitting next to me.

I looked over and winked. I swear I saw her twitch.

"That's quite judgmental, Colly, hmm? Saying we've all lost our shit, but you're perfect and sane?" I asked, my voice caked with a sweet, sweet hatred for her, hidden with false kindness. Colleen glared at me, covering up her fear, but I could smell it from a mile away. She began to tap her foot, unconsciously.

"Well, it's true! Emma's a _psycho_, Olivia thinks she's fat when she's really eight pounds, Julie doesn't talk and Beth killed someone! I mean, do I have to draw you a picture? Everyone here is fucked up, like, _severely_, and I'm not. I just want to go home," She shared, looking down and twirling her hair. I rolled my eyes and I let out a sigh before Mary could talk.

"Go home to your perfect, little townhouse on the Upper East Side, with your private tutors and your nannies and your designer fucking clothes? Wow, Col. You truly _are _better than all of us, aren't you? Putting down me, hey, that's fine, but Jules, Liv and Beth? That's cold," I chimed in, and Colleen's cheeks turned a dark red.

"I only _meant-" _

"Don't you fucking dare try and backtrack, all right? You called us crazy. We all heard it. Right, girls?" I turned to Olivia, Julie and Beth. They all looked away, as Olivia hiccupped. She covered her mouth with her hand right away.

"Shut the _fuck_ up, Emma! Just because you all have no family and no life doesn't mean _I_ have to-"

"Can you just stop talking? You're a snobby, little bitch. If you think that you're so above us and we're so below you, then just leave. No matter what though, you landed yourself here, so you're actually no better than us." Julie spoke up, interrupting. I looked over at her, my eyebrows raised in surprise. I smiled at her, a crooked smile.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to speak up," I commented, arms crossing over my chest. Colleen rolled her eyes, although her face was now entirely scarlet.

"Colleen, do you think that the words your group members said are accurate?" Mary asked, her voice calm and soothing. Colleen began to wring her hands and shrugged, with that same pompous, little tough girl attitude she tried so hard to put out.

I could see right through her, though. She was so entirely weak.

"Maybe I was being judgmental, but I'm just so tired, okay? I'm just so freaking tired and I want to go _home!" _She whined and then the water works began. I huffed and watched as she broke down, Mary rubbing her back with comfort.

"I miss my friends, I miss my parents, my boyfriend and my school! I miss _everything! _I don't want to be here anymore!" She sobbed and I wanted to fucking blow my brains out. Poor, little rich girl, poor, little rich girl. I wanted to vomit.

People like Colleen had it so easy. Perfect house, perfect parents (except her daddy likes to fuck her) and perfect school, friends, clothes and boyfriend. She had the nerve to complain, to be sad, to be angry. If I lived on a million dollar estate, I would be so fucking happy, a mental hospital would be the absolute _last _place I would be. So what if your dad wants to fuck you around or whatever? I'd let him, as long as he kept bringing in the money. People like me had to fuck around for that money, had to beg for it, dance for it, strip for it, fuck for it. People like me never had anything given to them and people like Colleen were just _handed _it. I couldn't even imagine.

I just glared, my fists shaking a bit. I wanted to murder her.

"Are you _fucking _kidding me?"

My voice was hard, angry. The girls looked at me, and I could already see Olivia start to shake a little. Mary looked up at me, surprised, as Colleen stopped herself from crying.

"Do you have something to say, Emma?"

I leaned forward in my chair, my eyes wild.

"Yeah, I got a lot of things to say, actually. We're all supposed to sit here and feel _sorry _for this stupid bitch? You expect me to reach over, pat her back and say, oh, it's all right, honey. Things will get better? Are you fucking _crazy?" _

It was an ironic question. I was asking it, a crazy mental patient, to a therapist. Mary's eyebrows rose a little bit as she took in a slow, deep breath, as if to prepare herself for my storm of rage.

"Things are _already _better for her! She's got a fucking great life! She lives in a mansion, with fucking maids and servants doing all her shit, cleaning her room, which I'm _sure_ is the biggest fucking room her mommy and daddy could give her, right?" Colleen glared, wholeheartedly, at me, like daggers. I wasn't done though, I was just beginning. I didn't care.

I looked to Colleen, my eyes narrowed. I looked right into her pale, now red-ish eyes and just stared at her for a good second.

"What the _fuck _is wrong with you? What the _fuck _is wrong with you, huh, little rich girl? Why don't you tell _me, _a poor girl living in _Sandchester _what the hell is wrong with you, because I'm curious. Do you have to fuck for _your _money? How about having to be passed around like a fucking rag doll to your father's fucking drug friends so that he can score? Huh?"

Colleen started to cry even more, her fists clenching together. I saw her teeth grinding together.

Mary leaned forward, looking at me with serious eyes. "Emma."

I smiled, that devilish smile again and leaned back, chuckling to myself. I shook my head at her, tsking. "Oh, wait, you know what? I found the problem. I know why you're so fucked up. 'Cause you see, my dad hated me, tossed me around to his drug friends, but hey-he never _fucked _me, did he?"

The room got deathly quiet, like someone had just dropped an atomic bomb. That only curved my enthusiasm more. I leaned forward even closer to Colleen, grinning wide and bright.

"_Emma. _Stop." Mary warned again, but I ignored her.

"Tell us, Col. Tell us how _Daddy _likes to undress you, undress your perfect, little nightgown and climb into bed with you." Colleen's entire face looked as though it were to pop off, her nails digging right into her skin.

Beth, out of nervousness, began to cover her ears and rock back and forth. That didn't throw me off, though. It only excited me more, made me feel even more empowered.

"Come on, _Colly. _Tell us! Tell us how he takes his pants off, crawls on top of you and slides his _dick _into you, _hard. _Tell us how his _manhood _reaches inside of you. Hah, but you know what?" I said, shaking my head as I saw a tear slip from her eye.

"People already _know _that he fucks you, but what they _don't know_ is that you _like _it. Mmm, you like being Mrs. Colleen Carroll. It's probably all you've _ever _known."

And there it was. The breakdown, the breaking point, the boiling point, and the moment I loved_ so_ much.

Colleen began to scream, her scream so high pitched and insane. She tackled me onto the ground, turning over my chair and began to slap me across the face, over and over again. I enjoyed the pain, I laughed as she hit me over and over again. I laughed with each attempt to punch me, each blow to my head. I laughed and I laughed.

Nothing could beat that moment when you know a human being has reached their breaking point and knowing you brought them there. There's just a certain power, a certain rank high that it makes you feel, at least for me. I heard Mary yell for help, yelling for male nurse assistance and instantly, they came. Colleen was pulled off of me, her hysterics never fading.

She tried to bite the male nurse, began to throw things around the room, and just kept screaming. Mary pointed to across the hall, the quiet room, and he had to drag her away. I smiled at her, waving good-bye, as she kept screaming and screaming.

"Bye, Col." I said, to myself more than anyone in particular.

Mary looked at me. "Are you okay?" I scoffed.

"After that soft, little baby fight? Yeah, I'm fine."

She nodded, taking a deep breath and then changed her look.

Instead, now she stared at me with disgust, looking over at the other male nurse. "Take this one to her room. She's to stay there for the entire day and make _sure _she does. I'll contact Doctor Paterson right away." I let out a small chuckle as the male nurse began to take my arm, but I pushed him away, hard.

"Get your fucking hands off me! It'd be my own fucking pleasure, not to sit here all day with you dipshits," I said, walking out of the room, the male nurse escorting me there.

I could hear Colleen's batshit crazy screaming from all the way down the hall to my room. The male nurse, who was new, of course, looked at me. "Your new roommate is in there. He's sleeping. Do not disturb him, please, or I'll get Doctor Paterson." I raised my eyebrows, nodding.

A new _roommate. _Time to fuck.

He opened the door for me, as I walked in. I couldn't tell who he was, because he was covered in blankets, but I knew when he woke up, I would pounce. Not seeing guys for a while could do that to a girl. The male nurse locked me in and I sighed.

I looked over at the sleeping body and smiled, to myself.

"Looks like it's just you and me."

* * *

><p>I rolled my eyes at the new kid's sleeping body and went over to my bed, that had cutouts of Kurt Cobain, My Chemical Romance, Bob Dylan and Nirvana above it, all taped to the purple cement walls. I hated that pale, gross color so much, and I hated that it stared at me like that. I changed it the moment I could, remembering how great it felt when I was done.<p>

I tried to make the room my own, for whatever reason. Like I said, I've been here for three years now. It was my home, whether I actually liked it or not. I didn't have a choice.

I took out my journal, some colored pencils I snatched from the art room, a lighter and some cigarettes I snagged earlier from Alaina's pack. I figured if I was going to be in here all day, I might as kind of enjoy it. I could still hear Colleen's fainted cries and whimpers from the quiet room, screaming, "She's a _cunt!" _over and over again. I smiled as I lit up, shaking my head.

The thing was that I wasn't a bad person. I was truthful, like I said before, and some people ran from that truth, like Colleen with her dad, and just kept running. They were fake, phony, and those types of people were the fuckers I thought were worse than me. You could say I was being a cunt by saying all that shit to Colleen, but she was the one who called us all crazy, said she was better than all of us, and there was nothing I hated more than having people think they're better than me, even if it's clearly delusional.

Especially Colleen, who was so fucked up that she didn't even know she was fucked up.

I didn't care. I never cared. Colleen was a spoiled brat from the moment she got here and she was a disaster waiting to happen. If I didn't tell her, someone else would have.

I began to draw, draw like there was no tomorrow. I blew out some smoke and held it in my mouth as I furrowed my eyebrows together. I looked at my drawing so far of Gandhi, the one and only. He was pretty cool, being all peaceful and never letting anyone push him away. Gandhi classified evil with an entity that didn't want to understand and therefore acted on impulses that were cruel and disheartening.

That was me, I knew that, but I didn't care. Gandhi was cool.

"What the fuck-" I heard the mumbled, cracked voice on the other side of the room. My eyes flickered over to the figure-sitting upright in bed; his blonde hair all messed up now.

It was Tate, the crazy kid from this morning.

I smiled at him. "Morning, sunshine. I'm your new roommate."

He stared at me and said nothing. I bit down on my lip and watched as he brought his legs over the side of the bed. The sunlight from the one locked window shined on him, his hair and black eyes glistening in the sun. He was kind of perfect looking, I had to say. I waited for him to say something.

"That was quite a performance this morning, mini Kurt Cobain," I led on further. He said nothing, just stared right at me.

"Can I bum one?" I looked up again and shrugged.

"Yeah, sure." He walked over to me and I pretended to do my drawing, when really, I was inspecting him further. He really was tall, dressed in the same tight black jeans and black shirt as before.

He smoothed his hair down, so it went directly in his eyes. My eyes went to one thing that glistened in the sun.

He had a snake ring around his thumb.

"Wicked thumb ring," I commented. He grabbed a cigarette and I handed him the lighter. He nodded. "Thanks."

He sat down on the floor, cross-legged, enjoying his cigarette. He looked peaceful, like a painting, and yet disturbed. Smoke came out of his nose and mouth, like it was meant to, and I was kind of entranced by that. Fuck, he was pretty gorgeous.

"I'm-"

"Emma. I know. That black nurse already filled me in. She said you're-" He stopped and I looked down at him on the floor and smiled really wide. Oh, Alaina.

"Fucking crazy?" He broke out into a small grin.

"Yeah." There was a pause, but then he spoke again.

"I'm Tate. Tate Langdon." I nodded, pretending I didn't already know and went back to my drawing. He didn't say anything else.

"Why are you here?" I asked, casually. Tate looked up at me, his face now contorted into a hard, cold stoned anger. He sat up fully, got up and did something I swear I never expected.

He pushed the cigarette right into my arm.

I gasped, caught off guard, and pushed him away as the burn scolded me. I tried to keep back a dry sob, keeping my composure, but that shit hurt. I used to burn myself back in the day, and cut myself too, but jesus. I had almost forgot how much it hurt when your skin was already clearly bruised.

"What-the-_fuck!" _I screamed, getting off my bed and pushing him again. His black, demonic eyes bored into mine, like I was his prey or something. I just kept staring, fuming, at him.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, you fucking _psycho?" _I demanded, attempting to punch him in the face. He caught my hand though, and twisted it. He smiled.

"Ah, ah, ah. Don't be so judgmental. You're a crazy bitch, too."

I scoffed, struggling for a moment, and then pushed him off of me. He fell to the ground, not expecting my real force, as I then punched him right in the jaw. I heard a nice, satisfying crack.

I chuckled, shaking my head at him with a smile.

"I'm _thee _crazy bitch to you, motherfucker. If you want to keep all of your bones in place, I suggest you make that your one and _only _hit. Game over, fucker. I win." I said, just as none other than Alaina burst through the door like superman.

"What the hell is happening? Mary told me you basically _berated _Colleen and-" She stopped dead in her tracks as she assessed the situation. Alaina put her hands on her hips, sighing and rolling her eyes. She stared at me, fiercely.

"I assume this is _your _doing?" I smiled and showed my hand.

"Yeah, believe it or not, I didn't start this one. Crazy fucker burned me with a cigarette." I said and she rushed over to see it. It was a pretty big burn on my hand. Alaina tsked and looked at Tate, who was still on the floor, holding his bloody nose.

"Oh, for the love of God, now there's _two _of you," I heard her say as she went over to help Tate up. Danny, the same male nurse from before, came in, concerned.

"I heard a thump from around here. What's going on?"

"Tate here burned Emma with a cigarette and then Emma, of course, punched him in the face. He has a broken nose. Can you take him to the infirmary?" Danny nodded, taking Tate's arm and guarding him out. Tate resisted, yanking it away.

"Don't fucking touch me, faggot!" He stormed off, as Danny slightly rolled his eyes and followed him.

That left Alaina and I. She looked at me, her hands still placed on her hips. For a moment or so, I thought she looked genuinely concern for me, protectiveness even. She took a deep breath and placed her hand out.

"Gimme the cigs. Now." I promptly snatched them off my bed and handed them to her. She put them in her scrub pocket and her face softened a bit.

"Does it hurt?" I shook my head and slightly smiled.

"Are you kidding? I mean, at first it did, but now I'm just numb to those burns. It's fine," I slightly lied. It throbbed a bit, but I didn't want to admit it to myself. Alaina nodded, pausing.

"What happened in group today, huh? Heard you pretty much lit the place on fire." I shrugged, gesturing, and smiled wide.

"Awwwwwww, I'm so flattered!"

"It ain't a compliment, little girl." I scoffed and returned back on my bed, picking up my drawing. Alaina leaned on the doorframe, watching me with her all-knowing looks of wisdom.

"Please. That bitch had it coming. Besides, I'm sure when she bursts out of here, she'll go back to her fairytale fucking life and forget all about us, about what was said. Trust me." I drew the rest of Gandhi's beard as I heard Alaina scoff.

"You sure you ain't jealous of her? She _does _have the life you never had, the life your family left you out of."

I stopped drawing and stared at my paper. I tensed and looked up at Alaina after a moment and there was no feeling in my voice or eyes or anything. I didn't feel anything anymore.

"I don't feel anything anymore. It's impossible for me to feel jealous of someone, to feel sad, or angry, or depressed. Were you absent the day they covered _sociopaths _at nurse school?" Alaina swallowed hard and put her hands up, in defense.

"Fine, fine, okay. You ain't jealous," She concluded and I went back to drawing, quietly. I was beginning to get tired. She stayed behind for a few moments and then looked back at me.

"You sure you don't want me to look at the burn for you?"

I shook my head, not looking up. She sighed, about to close the door on her way out. She stopped, though.

"Hey," She said, wanting me to look up. I did.

"What?"

Alaina furrowed her eyebrows together, like she had been thinking about how to say what she was about to say.

"I know you like to be the tough bitch in charge, and you are. Trust me, no patient has ever bitched like you before and gotten away with it," She began and I slightly smiled.

"All I'm saying is...If you _truly _don't feel nothing, that's how it is, but don't write yourself off to every emotion...No one really _stops _feeling, you know? They just stop trying." I stared at her, not saying anything at all. She swallowed hard, a bit uncomfortable and turning a little pink.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is...don't give up."

I stared at her still, silently, and then went back to drawing. "Close the door on your way out, okay?"

I didn't want to be a bitch to Alaina. I knew if I could have feelings, I would have feelings for her, feelings for a friend, for a mother even. She took care of me. Sort of. But I didn't have feelings, or emotions at all. I just didn't.

"You still want that crazy fucker to be your roommate? I can do a swap," She suggested, kindly. I shook my head.

"Nah. I'll let him know who is the bitch in charge, besides you." I heard her chuckle as she then closed the door.

I finished the drawing, finally, and examined it. I bit down on the tip of my pencil and just stared. I stood up on my bed, putting my pencil in my mouth, and grabbed a strip of tape from my nightstand.

I stood up and taped the picture next to a picture I had sketched of Marilyn Manson. I smiled, admiring it.

Underneath the picture of Gandhi, I had put one of his quotes: _"Be the change you want to see in the world."_ I smiled at that, chuckling.

The change I wanted to see in the world would be to single out those fuckers who thought they were better than you and make them suffer. I sat down on my bed and thought more about that, about wanting those people to burn and be murdered. It didn't make me feel happy, but it didn't make me feel sad either. The truth was that I couldn't change a single damn thing in my own life, nonetheless the entire world.

I couldn't change that my mother hated me. I couldn't change Tate for being a crazy fucker and burning me. I couldn't change his tormenting the kids he wanted to kill in his high school. I couldn't change how Colleen's father was fucking her at night for God knows how long. I couldn't change that I had nowhere to go in life, but right here, and I couldn't change that I didn't really give a flying fuck about anybody at all. I just couldn't.

I had decided a long time ago that change wasn't going to happen and if it were, it would have nothing to do with me. I wasn't going to change, no matter what, because I was stuck like this forever. I was the nobody fucking disease at four years old and I still am at seventeen years old. Nothing changed.

I thought back to what Alaina said, about not giving up on emotions. I didn't stop trying, necessarily. I just stopped caring. The most important thing though, is that I didn't reject anyone or anything first. _They _rejected _me. _

I sighed, knowing my thoughts were just going to keep eating at me. I looked over at my nightstand and leaned off the bed, sticking my head under it. I grabbed a box I had kept, secretly, and opened my nightstand drawer. I took out silver, little key and opened the box from under the bed. There, sitting right where I left it was my shiny, little razors.

I smiled. "Hello, old friends."


	3. I'm longing for you near

**This one was really fun to write, because it features one of Emma's most vulnerable moments. I know it's only the third chapter, but I think it's important to see that side of her as well. She's an incredibly complicated character and entirely my own, I guess, and she IS a sociopath, but I do think she has feelings and you'll see more of that soon. I'm introducing a new character in this, Donavan, and he will play a pretty big part in the story. For some reason, I just picture him as a more badass version of Harry Styles and I don't know if that is okay or not, bu eh. I really love all the feedback and I appreciate it so much! Enjoy :3 -Beth**

**PS: Look at this picture I found! I saved it, because it reminded me of the story, even with the nurse in the background who is in my mind, Alaina. This is how I picture Emma! http/oi43(period)tinypic(period)com/2ilyctv (period) jpg**

** Alaina is based off the nurse I had when I was in a mental hospital. She's beautiful :) Okay. Sorry!**

* * *

><p>My sessions with Doctor Dickhead always seemed to go exactly the same. He tried to analyze me, sitting there across from me on his wheely, leather chair. He sat back, somehow always on edge, with his little clipboard in hand, pen clicking constantly, and eyebrows furrowed. His foggy, dirty glasses lay on the tip of his big nose and he just stared at me. He stared and stared and stared and sometimes all of our sessions just consisted of us staring. I didn't say a word, he didn't say a word, and when the timer rang on his desk, comemoring another hour of just bullshit, I left, saying nothing at all.<p>

Sometimes, I sat and just drew, and when he asked me questions, I flipped him off and didn't speak. He would eventually give in, check in the letterbox that he was given to evaluate me that said _not progressing _and call it a day.

But today, I had to hand it to Sheldon: He wanted me to speak and he was pretty determined. Be careful what you wish for, Sheldon.

"Esmeralda, it should come to no surprise to you that you have developed an abusive relationship with _many _of the other patients in here," He began, in a strict, even voice. I sat, cross-legged and relaxed, as his brown, muddy eyes bored into mine. Gimme a fucking break, Shel.

"Mmm, I'd like to call it _challenging. _C'mon, Sheldon, most of these kids you call patients in here are so fucked up that they have no idea how to talk about their problems. At least I bring them to the surface," I said, grinning wide. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, preparing himself.

"Why did you feel the need to set off Colleen today? You seem to carry a very strong rage toward her, Mary has said." I groaned, dramatically rolling my eyes.

"Yeah, well, Mary the Hippie seems to carry a very strong bullshit vibe, so I wouldn't take her word for it, Shel." I sat back, looking down at my hands. I wish I was in my room, smoking the cigarettes and letting the blades I hid do their magic work. I just wanted to see the blood, the beautiful, warm blood that felt so natural to me.

"You target people who are weaker than you, Esmeralda." He said that like he was stating the most brilliant thing in the entire world. I didn't say anything, too bored already. These dipshits could psychoanalyze me all day if they wanted to.

They're all wrong.

"You see Colleen, a well-off girl who is pretty, but proves to have a weaker exterior than most. You do the same with Julie and Olivia, and even Courtney. You prey on the weak. It's fun for you, for some reason. It's an urge you cannot control." I glared at Doctor Dipshit and raised my eyebrows.

I smiled, slightly. "Well, gosh. You got me all figured out, don't you, Sheldon?" I paused.

Doctor Dickhead just stayed still, his face just as serious.

"You sit there on your nice leather chair day after day and you write down your almighty powerful notes and what? You go home, fuck your fat wife and start all over again. See, you fucking shrinks think you're invincible, don't you? You just think you're immune," I began and I saw him flinch a bit. I smiled, shaking my head.

"But you see, Shel, I _know _I'm crazy. It's what they call a _paradox_, right?" I asked, pretending not to know. Of course I knew. My IQ was on par, apparently, with Albert Einstein. They told my mother back in third grade that I could be in middle school already, possibly high school.

She laughed and said they were all crazy.

"I know I'm a _crazy_, little girl with damaging, abnormal thoughts or whatever bullshit you want to label me as having. Sociopath, psychopath, depressed, whatever. But what does it say about a person who makes it their entire _profession _to sit there, playing god and judging crazy, fucked up people all day?" I paused, tsking, and shrugged.

"I think it's rather obvious, don't you? I might be fucked up beyond _anyone's _help, but you, Shel? You're more fucked than the rest of us combined. You hide behind that bullshit, therapist persona and you put your little crooked glasses on and your fancy suit and somehow that makes _you _feel important. That makes you feel, what exactly? _Better _about yourself? You must think you're the _sanest _person in the entire world when you work at a place like this."

Doctor Paterson shifted in his seat, uncomfortably, and I saw his eyes flicker away from mine. I bored into his own eyes, a sadistic grin plastered on my face.

"This job is for weak, sad little fucked up people who want to _pretend _that they're not nearly as fucked as they really are. It's so much easier to sit back and call other people out on their own shit than actually _confront _your own. So, I don't know, Shel. Maybe you and I should switch places," I joked, lightly, and yawned, loudly. That wasn't even my worst.

There was a pause, as he sighed.

"You like to try and pinpoint other people's weaknesses and prey on them. That doesn't make me judgmental, Esmeralda. That makes me observant, as your therapist," He stated, his even voice a little bit shaken. I chuckled, nodding.

"So, you're saying you're an _official _shithead?"

"No. What I'm saying is if you don't clean up your act and start behaving in a way that is acceptable and decent, then we will have no choice."

I stopped smiling. I stopped everything. I looked up, my eyes fierce, round and murderous. I paused, swallowing hard.

Doctor Paterson shifted in his chair again, feeling a bit more confident now that he had shut me up a little bit.

"It is simply out of my hands. When you reach the legal age of eighteen, we have the power to kick you out, but you also have the power to sign yourself out. Your mother will no longer by your legal guardian." The last part was like music to my ears. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"So, this place is all good and fine, as long as you're fucking rich enough to afford it? As it turns out, you _can _get help, but it will fucking cost you." I spat, gritting through my teeth. Doctor Paterson folded his hands on the clipboard.

"It has nothing to do with that. Your mother has contacted us and she has said that once you turn eighteen, she has given up all legal responsibilities for you, including the money and insurance," I wanted to laugh out loud. Just one last final betray, one last "fuck you" from the cocksucker. She ruined every single one of my birthdays growing up, so it makes sense she would ruin the last one, as I turned into an adult.

I scoffed, rubbing my eyes with exhaustion. "So, uh, what? You kick me out and I go live on the streets? Fine," I said, shrugging, but I couldn't pretend that the mere thought of sleeping on the cold streets of New York City didn't make me upset, or stressed out. I would have nothing.

"No, we wouldn't do that. We would place you into a home, a woman's shelter, a boarding house. We wouldn't just kick you out off to live on the streets," He said, and somehow that sounded so much worse. I shrugged, smiling.

"Why not? It obviously doesn't matter." _Oh, shut up. You're a stupid whore, Emma, and you know it. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You're a fucking bitch, and you're weak. _

Doctor Paterson propped his face on his elbow. "And why do you say that, Esmeralda?" I glared at him.

"Shel, let me clue you in on a little secret, okay? I don't give a flying _fuck _about anyone. Not one single goddamn person. So why the hell would anyone give a fuck about me?" He paused, leaning back in his chair again.

"Esmeralda, your behavior here for the last three years has been yes, erratic, but everyone _can _get better, if they _want _to, truly. The question is: Do you _want _to get better?" _You can't get better, not if this is who you have been born to be. You can't just go from whom you are to someone who is deemed acceptable in society. You can't run away like that. _

I got up from the couch and walked over to the door. "We're done for today, Sheldon. I'll see you for another riveting session tomorrow."

Asshole. _You're a psychopath, a mere piece of garbage that has no business living. Exterminate, exterminate. Die, die, die. _

* * *

><p>I sat against the padded wall in the gym, watching as everyone else played around. It came as a bit of surprise when I found out that there were only about three boys being treated in the male adolescent ward, including little Kurt Cobain. I looked up from scribbling in my notebook and I watched as he played around with Courtney, chasing her around with the ball. She laughed, giggled like the little girl she was, as he chased her around. Colleen was still being treated in the quiet room and Olivia and Julie were attempting to play volleyball in the center. We were a small group; I knew that, but jesus. Our problems filled up the entire room, all the way up to the brim until we couldn't breathe.<p>

"Emma, Emma! C'mon, play with Tate and I!" Courtney cried, happily, her cheeks flushed with crimson. Tate looked over at me, a bit out of breath and sweaty, his smooth cheeks also a bit pink. I bit down on my lip and pretended to think about it.

"Hmmm, let me think about it, Torch." She anticipated my sarcastic remark and the smile vanished from her face. She hung her head down in shame and swallowed hard.

"No fucking way?" She quoted me. I smiled, wide.

"I'm thinking so, Torchy." She ran off, not wanting to get into a fight with me. Tate stayed behind as I went back to drawing. He stood there for a few seconds and then I looked back up at me. His black eyes were boring, angrily, into mine. He had his fists slightly clenched.

"Can I help you, Kurt Cobain?"

"Who the _fuck _do you think you are? Calling an innocent, little girl that name after all she has been through?" He spat at me, his tone low and seething. I rolled my eyes and sighed. I really had no patience with this kid.

"Aw, that's cute. You're starting to like the little retard, aren't you?" Before I could even say another word, his eyes grew big and he slapped me, _hard, _across the face.

Right away, a few nurses came over and pushed him back. He put his hands out, as if he were fine. "I'm okay, I'm fine! I'm fine, let go of me!" I held my now red cheek and got up.

I stared at him, a devilish grin on my face. "Wow, little Cobain, you just can't keep your fucking hands to yourself, can you?" I taunted him, as Danny came between us.

"Guys, guys! Stop! What happened?" I looked to Tate, my eyebrows raised and I gestured toward him.

"Please, Kurt, be my guest and explain." Tate looked at Danny and took a deep breath. He then looked at me, looking right into my sarcastic smile, and his eyes were fuming. I had no idea what had set him off, why in the world he was suddenly so protective of Torch, but whatever.

"Whatever. I'm sorry. She's not worth it," He said and walked back over to Torch, who was staring in disbelief that someone had actually stood up to me about calling her Torch. No one ever did, and I had to hand it to Tate. No one ever seemed to question _anything _I did or stop me. For good reason, because I would kick their ass, but still.

"All right, everyone! We're going to start group! Everyone gather in the middle of the gym, please!" I heard Mary the Hippie say. She came back into the gym with Colleen, who kept his head low and her eyes down to the floor.

I smiled, getting up. This would be fun.

Everyone, including the guys this time, got to the center of the gym and we all sat in a circle, cross-legged. Colleen sat next to Torch, who held her hand, sweetly, and told her some words of comfort. I smiled, even wider.

"Okay, everyone. So, this is our first group with _everyone_, bad and girl, and so-"

"Hey, Col! How was the little _vacay _you had today? The room got silent and Colleen, hung her head even lower in shame and embarrassment, but I could still see her cheeks burning. Mary looked at me, her eyes stern.

"Emma. If you talk out again like that one more time, I'll have to ask Danny to bring you back to your room for the entire night." I rolled my eyes as she looked away, but Tate stared right at me. His eyes were so angry, so raged, and disgusted.

He hated me, but that was okay. I hated everyone.

"Anyhow, how about we go around the circle and introduce ourselves and say a little bit about who you are?" We started with Courtney, then Colleen, then Julie, then and Olivia.

And then it was Tate's turn. He cleared his throat, looking at his converse. "Uh, hi. I'm, uh, Tate. I'm eighteen years old and I'm in here today because...Because I have bipolar disorder, anxiety, anger issues and depression. I'm also prone to black-outs." I leaned forward, smirking.

I wanted to have some fun. Sue me.

"Hmm, that must have been hard on your classmates there, Tate," I said aloud, and everyone froze. Tate looked at me, eyes narrowed. I smiled back at him.

"Emma! That's a warning!" Mary scolded, and I rolled my head back and laughed, because that was about the third time she told me that. Tate cleared his throat again.

"Tate, you don't have to explain anything to us, okay?" Mary said, kindly. Tate nodded, but then he shrugged. He looked over at me, eyes narrowed and mean.

"No...No, it's fine. I threatened to bring in a gun to school, because...because I have a little sister and she's mentally disabled with autism. Kids were making fun of her, so I brought in the gun and held them all hostage, but I...I didn't go through with it. I broke down beforehand and they sent me here," He said, his voice even and pretty calm.

Mary nodded, smiling warmly at him. "Thank you very much for sharing that with us, Tate. We greatly appreciate it." I rolled my eyes, now piecing together why he had gone so apeshit before. Courtney moved over and snuggled up to him.

I wanted to honestly vomit.

The next boy sitting next to Tate had curly, shaggy brown hair, covered up with a beanie, and deep brown eyes. He wore tight jeans and a Metallica shirt. He had a tattoo on his arm the shape of a skull and I figured I'd let him fuck me if he truly and honestly wanted to. Whatever.

"I'm Donavan, and I'm eighteen. I got high on LSD and pot and I raped a total of thirteen girls and killed one of their boyfriends. They sent me here until I'm twenty-one." His voice was very detached, almost as if he felt no emotion or attachment to his crime. I raised my eyebrows, not expecting that. Mary shifted in her seat, her eyes narrowed in deep thought, as if debating in her head how to respond to this.

"That's very brave of you to say, Donavan. You were just sent here yesterday?" She asked, sweetly, but Donavan just pulled out a lighter from his pocket and a thing of cigarettes. I smirked, waiting for someone to actually stop him.

But no one did.

"Uh, Mary the Hippie, what the fuck is this? Evel Knievel gets to light up in here but the rest of us don't?" Donavan laid back, puffing smoke out of his mouth and looked at me.

"So. This is the crazy bitch everyone's afraid of." Oh, for the love of fuck. I didn't need some crazy motherfucking drug addict coming in here and stirring trouble.

I smiled, sarcastically. "Well, aren't you just observant? Bravo. But seriously, Mary, what the hell?" I asked, turning back to her. Mary cleared her throat again, shifting.

"Emma, as you know, all the patients in here have their own plan of getting better. Doctor Paterson is allowing Donavan to smoke whenever he feels stressed or needs it," She went on, her face a bit uneven. I stared at her, hard.

"Well, isn't that just fucking great? Let the kid who _killed _and raped a bunch of people smoke in here, but not the funny, always exciting sociopath?" I retorted, rolling my head back and groaning. Tate looked at me and rolled his eyes.

"More like always bitchy. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why are you always such a goddamn bitch?" Colleen, Olivia and even Courtney burst out laughing. Mary put her hand up, quieting them and I just smiled, sweetly, at Tate.

"Sweetheart, you must really want to fuck me, considering how much attention you pay me. I'm actually flattered, but I'd be more flattered if you weren't such a cowardly, weakass little bitch who can't properly aim a gun," I snapped back and Donvan looked over at me, seemingly impressed.

Tate's cheeks went red, but he leaned forward, his eyes boring into mine. "Well, at least I haven't been here for three years and show no sign of ever getting out. You just think it's okay to say whatever the shit you want to say, and you think it makes you charming and funny, but it doesn't. It just makes you fucking pathetic." He spat at me and I rolled my head back and laughed.

This kid just never seemed to back down.

"Really? Thanks for the insight there, Kurt Cobain, I whole heartedly appreciate it, but here's a tip for you: At least I _know _I'm not never getting out of here and at least I _know _I'm a bitch, because honey, trust me, I know I am. But I'm not some cowardly, little boy who is just kidding himself into thinking he's _not _a demented, little fuck who just likes to bring guns into school and hold people hostage, without even doing anything at all. That isn't a sign of goodness, sweetie: It's a sign of weakness, and that kind of weakness stays with you forever, no matter how much therapy you get."

The gym was silent and all eyes were on Tate. My eyes were wide, dancing with excitement, because I always jumped at the chance to put down little shits like Tate Langdon. However, all he did was smile and shrug, carelessly.

"That might be true, _Esmeralda, _but at least I know people _care _about me, because you? You don't have a single person who would _ever _care about you. Not even your own mother. You can't even get her to come and visit you, because she _doesn't _give a shit about you at all. Who would? You're a sad, _sadistic _little girl, Esmeralda, and I feel sorry for you."

All of the girls gasped and I felt like the air was punched out of me. I wasn't accustomed of being handed to like that, wasn't accustomed to losing arguments. I felt my lip start to tremble, feeling as though my heart and brain were on fire. I wanted to scream, I wanted to attack him and I wanted to literally rip the flesh off of him. I wanted to see the blood, the blood of his own covered everywhere and I wanted him to suffer more than anyone else who had ever suffered. I've never been on the receiving side, having my own ass handed to me and having my own problems shoved into me.

This is what it feels like, to feel nothing. To be nothing, to want nothing, to completely shrink down to nothing at all.

Tate knew, too, that I was speechless. My cheeks, I could feel them, were burning and my mouth was slightly opened. He smiled at me, like I had smiled at him before, all sweet and pretty. I took in a deep breath and I could tell people expected me to lose my shit, but I didn't. I didn't care.

_You know that he's right. You are a disgusting, little girl who likes to prey on the weak ones, just like Doctor Shithead said. Your entire life is meaningless and you like it that way, because in that way, you can pretend you're worth something. You are a monster, a horrible, mouth-breathing, disgusting beast that likes to toy with people's emotions and you can't cry or show anything at all. Doctors have gone on record saying that little beasts like you should be killed, taken off the earth, because there is no curing you. Nothing can cure you, nothing can save you. He's right. He's right. _

I decided to just get up and walk away. Danny tried to follow me, ask me a bunch of questions, but I shoved him away. I knew everyone in the circle was looking at me, but I didn't care about those fuckers either. I hated them. I hated them.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE! YOU'RE ALL WEAK FUCKING HUMAN VICTIMS ANYWAY!" I screamed, my veins popping out. I nearly gave Danny a heart attack as I stormed out, slamming the gym doors behind me. I was done.

I stalked to my room, some other nurses calling my name, but I shoved them away and told them to fuck off. Alaina was probably on her dinner break, and I hardly realized how much I had relied on her to be there for me when I freaked out. _You need her. You need someone. Everyone does. _

"No! No! I DON'T NEED ANYONE!" I screamed, to the voice inside my head that never stopped talking.

I jumped onto of my bed, throwing whatever I could all around. I took the dresser by my own bed and put it against the door.

Nurses began to bang on it, but they couldn't enter. They were screaming my name, screaming for help, but somehow, I couldn't hear them at all.

I began to throw around my books, my pillows, my blanket, and all the pictures on the walls that I had drawn. I ripped them, shredded them with my own bare hands and I screamed and cried like a madwoman on cocaine. I stomped on the particles left; I ripped up my entire notebook and threw the book at the wall. I screamed and screamed.

_You're a weakling, Esmeralda. Here you are, destroying everything you touch. Everything you touch, turns to dust, and everything you breathe is evil and gross. You aren't strong. You aren't anything at all. You're nothing. Weak. _

"SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" I screamed, as I then began to rip the blankets off Tate's bed too, and ripping up the poster of Nirvana he had on his wall. I threw around his own belongings, screaming how much I hated him, how I would kill him in a heartbeat. And I was certain I would.

More banging, more screaming came from outside. "Quick! She locked herself in there! Someone, anyone, help!" "Get her out of there! Call for back up!" "She's self destructive. She _will _hurt herself."

I heard various voices, I'm sure, but I couldn't seem to care at all. I didn't.

I lunged for the razors under my bed and one of the nurses saw me through the little window on the door. "NO! NO! SOMEONE, HELP! CODE 302! 302! PATIENT WITH WEAPONS!" She yelled and screamed for help.

By now, my entire hair was all over the place; everything in the room looked like Nirvana had stayed the night and trashed the place. I didn't care, I never would ever again. I pulled out of the razors, as I heard a few other nurses banging on the door, trying to open it. One was trying to talk to me, another kept calling for help. I didn't need them. I needed no one. I didn't even look up as I took the razors out.

I didn't want to kill myself. I just wanted the shit to stop.

_Go ahead. Slit your wrist, again and again and again. Be my guest. You're a worthless slut, aren't you? You can't be trusted, you can't be liked. You can't be anything at all. Your own mother wants you dead. Your father doesn't care. _

Suddenly, in front of me, I saw my mother. I sobbed out loud as she appeared and her voice was strong and over powering. I took the razor in my hand and placed it on my soft, delicate skin.

"You should kill yourself. You're an evil, little girl who I've _never _loved. Daddy left because of you. He never wanted a monster for a daughter, but I don't want you either." She was drunk, bottle in hand, and I sat on the floor.

"YOU'RE A BITCH! YOU'RE A STUPID WHORE!" I yelled at her, knowing she probably wasn't there. She only smiled and kneeled down to me.

**"Just like you, honey. Just like you."**

Bang, bang, bang, bang. The door finally opened and there, in the doorway, were about fifteen nurses, but the one who ct through was Alaina. Her eyes, panicked and wide, didn't know what direction to look in. The ripped sheets, the destroyed particles of paper everywhere, or me, sitting on the floor next to my bed, sobbing my eyes out with a razor.

"Emma. Emma, just-"

"GET AWAY FROM ME! PLEASE! I DON'T FUCKING WANT YOU! GET OUT, GET OUT!"

Just then, Danny and another male nurse came in, rushing over and grabbing me away from the razor. I refused to let go, tugging at her and tugging at her. I needed it, I needed the blood, I never everything that made me feel like something. _Go ahead; go ahead, just like me, honey. _

"NO! NO! Get me my fucking razors, you prick!" I kicked and screamed and tried to bite, but they eventually grabbed it away from me. In back of the nurses in the doorway, who were all shocked and dumfounded, I saw Mary and the kids who peered in.

They tried to escort them back, but they stayed behind, to watch the unbreakable bitch that tormented them break open and spill all over the floor.

I saw Colleen slightly smile. I saw Tate's dark eyes rest on me. They were blank, not happy nor sad, just blank.

They both picked me up, carrying me out of the room. I tried to bite them, scratch them, but to no prevail. I sobbed openly, angrily, as I saw the quiet room come into my sight. Alaina was right behind them, trying to comfort me.

"Shh, it's okay, Emma, shh. You all right now, okay? You all right now."

I fought and bit them again and tried to escape. I began to run down the hallway.

Someone handed something to Alaina and she caught up with me, Danny and some other nurses getting hold of me.

It was a syringe.

"NO! No, please, Alaina! NO! NO! NOOOOOO!" I screamed.

Those needles hurt like fucking hell and knocked you out forever. She inched toward me, calming.

"Just relax, just relax."

"DON'T YOU FUCKING POKE ME WITH THAT FUCKING THING!" I screamed, and just as Alaina went to inset into my skin, I bit her. She screamed out, in pain, as Danny took me into the quiet room. He closed the door and I was left alone.

I screamed, unbearably, and slammed my fists hard against the door. Something cracked in my hand, but I didn't care. I screamed out, louder than anyone has ever screamed, and kept screaming and screaming and screaming.

Until finally, I stopped and crashed against the cement wall.

I fell down, covered my red, sobbing face with my hands and pretended as if I weren't alive.

_Weak little sadistic girl, weak little sadistic girl. Your own mother doesn't want you, your own mother doesn't want you. Silly, silly little girl with an anger in you; don't you know that no one could ever want you? _


	4. If I'm quiet, if I'm mute

**I'm really so sorry this took forever. I've had so much work, considering it's the end of the semester for me, but all of that is done and I will be on Spring Break now! Yay! I hope to update quicker next to time, so I do apologize for the longer than usual wait. **

**Once again, thank you for the reviews and feedback. I love it and I hope it keeps on coming! This chapter is a bit intense and includes CHILD ABUSE and so if that makes you feel uncomfortable, please don't feel obligated to read it. Child abuse is horrible and I am NOT trying to offend anyone whatsoever.**

**This chapter is really important because it breaks the surface on Tate and Emma's pasts and gets us closer to the question on why Emma is in the mental hospital, amongst other things. I hope you enjoy! Thanks! -Beth**

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><p><em>I remember the day it first started. I was sitting on the couch, petting my puppy. His name was Happy, a name Oliver, my older brother, had named him. Our father had bought him for us, but after he left, Happy seemed to be the only remaining link to my father. We cherished that dog, loved him more than we could dearly say. It was a Saturday night, and I was in my pink, flower night gown. I was a girly girl back then, anxious and inspired by everything.<em>

_I was hyper, outgoing and demanding. I wanted everything to be mine, but I wanted to share it with the world. I had a determination, a dancing glimmer of hope settled in my young eyes. _

_I was five years old. _

_Oliver, eight years old, was favored by my mother. It was his birthday, his eighth birthday, and she had made him a cake and his favorite dinner. We never had any money laying around, ever, so I knew that a cake and a full-blown meal meant that she must have loved him a lot and saved for it. She had forgotten my birthday so many times, not even bothering on celebrating with me. _

_She liked to ignore me. I had no idea why. _

_"Honey, did you enjoy your birthday cake?" I remember hearing my mother's kind voice in the kitchen as I sat on that ripped up, brown leather couch with Happy. I patted his head and snuggled into him. _

_I heard Oliver reply back and an exchange of "I love you"'s were given. She had never told me she loved me. My dad had, so many times, and called me his little princess, his little girl, but as days went on since he left, his voice and those words, while comforting and helpful to endure the day, were always slipping away from me. _

_My mother had just started dating the Minister. The bell had rung and I knew it was him. As a five year old, I had no opinion on him. I didn't know him, but I knew I didn't particularly like him. What five year old would welcome a new father figure into their family? Oliver ran to the door and I saw him and the Minister high five. I slumped back into the ratty couch, wishing I could be apart of that. _

_The minister looked into the den, where I was. "Howdy, Emma! Isn't it passed your bedtime?" I swallowed hard, tired, and shook my head. I heard my mother come in and she stared at me. _

_She wanted me gone. _

_"Esmeralda, get to bed. Now." I gestured to the TV. "But Spongebob is on and I really want to-" _

_"Esmeralda! You already tried to ruin the night by not eating at your brother's birthday dinner. You were being selfish then and you're being even more selfish now, not to mention being incredibly rude to the minister. I work a long hard day and I don't want to deal with you right now. Go to bed." Her tone of voice was always angry when she spoke to me, as if she were blaming me, but I didn't know what. _

_I stared at her, long and hard, and I remember those tears in the back of my eyes. I felt one of them slip as I got up, kissing Happy on the top of his fury, little head and began to walk out. _

_I heard them kiss, whisper sweet-nothings to each other. I looked back, innocently. "Mommy?" Such an innocent word. _

_She broke away from the minister and glared at me, like she wished I were never born at all. _

_It sent shivers down my spine. _

_"What?"_

_"I just...I was just wondering if Happy could sleep with me...You always let him sleep with Oliver and-"_

_Before I could so much as say another word, my own mother grabbed Happy from his fur and looked over at me, with wild eyes. _

_Happy yelped out in pain and I screamed. "No! Happy! Stop!" _

_"Do you want me to throw him out of this house and let him deliberately get run over by a car, because I will, Esmeralda! Don't test me! I don't even understand why you're so attached to this stupid, mangy mutt!" She yelled at me and I started to cry. _

_"Let him go, Mommy, let him go! He's Daddy's favorite, he's Daddy's favorite! Don't hurt him!" I sobbed, rushing over and grabbing the whimpering Happy out of my mother's arms. _

_She let go, her eyes a bit wild, even now. The minister watched, detached from the situation, as my mother shook her head. She glared down at me, her teeth grinding together and smacked me, hard, across the face. I fell over, in shock. _

_"You and your stupid father! Don't you understand that he's not coming back for you? You're the reason he left! We were perfectly happy with just one child, but no! He insisted that I have you and then he realized what a mistake you were and left me!" She screamed, kicking me in my side. I cried into my hands and I watched as she grabbed Happy by the fur again and led him over to the front door. _

_"No! Mommy, no! Don't get rid of Happy!" And with that, she hit him with a belt she had and he went running away into the darkness. Into the darkness where cars could hurt him and people could try and hurt him, too. _

_I screamed, attempting to run after him, but my mother grabbed me back by my own shirt and pushed me back. I was hysterical. _

_"HAPPY! HAPPY, NOOOO! NOOO! HAPPY, COME BACK!" _

_That was the last time I saw him, my beloved puppy. I still think about him, his golden fur and his cute, little brown eyes that made me melt, that made me think about my father for some reason. _

_I looked back at her, horrified and angry. "Why would you do that? WHY! He was the only one who loved me!" I screamed. She grabbed my arm again, raising her hand to slap me._

_I flinched and then I saw the minister take my mother away, stopping her from hitting me. The moment she let go, I ran up the stairs, sobbing. I burst out into my room, small as it was, and fell onto my bed. I cried and cried in my pillow until I couldn't breathe anymore. I knew Happy was my only friend, considering I was a freak in school that no one liked. I was hated and bullied for being different, to wanting to be different, and at home, I was hated and bullied for it, too. Happy was the only one who loved me. _

_I cried for what seemed like ages when I heard a soft knock at my door. Red faced and tear stained, I looked up from my pillow. _

_"GO AWAY!" I cried, thinking it was my mother. But it wasn't. _

_The door creaked open and I heard footsteps coming over to me. I looked up and my red, glassy eyes focused on the minister. He looked down at me, with sad, sympathetic eyes and for a moment in time, I actually liked him. Maybe I was just desperate for love, for attention, for any kind of affection that I never received. _

_"There, there, child. It's okay. I'm sure Happy is okay, out there with his friends," He tried to comfort me, but I sniffled, still crying. _

_"He-he doesn't like the dark! He's-he's scared!" I bawled and it was then that the minister sat down on my bed. He began to soothingly rub my back, as an act of kindness. _

_"Shh, shhh. God takes care of all his creatures, Emma. He won't let Happy get hurt." I felt somewhat comforted as I sat up in my bed, those pink sheets covering me. I remember them like yesterday. _

_"My-my mommy doesn't like me." I stammered and the minister stopped stroking my back. He shook his head. _

_"No, no, child. She loves you. She's just...She's just a little confused right now and tired. She does love you," He tried to convince me, but I knew it wasn't true. I knew he knew it wasn't true. _

_"No. She hates me. She's told me. She remembers Oliver's birthday and forgets mine. She reads him bedtime stories, but she doesn't read any to me. Not even when I ask her to. She says mean things to me, calls me names. She likes to hit me with hard things and...And she says I drove away my daddy. She said that she wishes I was never born." I whispered, my voice cracking. It was evident she did, I'm sure, and the minister knew that. He had no words to say. _

_"Sometimes, mommys and daddys make mistakes, too. Your mommy has made a lot of mistakes, Emma." I didn't know how that was supposed to make me feel better, but it did. I took in a few shaky breaths and looked up at him, with sad, wet eyes. _

_"I don't know what I did. Did she ever tell you why?" I asked, and I could tell that took the minister back. He shook his head. _

_"No, child, I'm afraid she never has. Maybe she does love your brother more, but God loves you, Emma. He loves you more than anyone ever could." I nodded, pretending to act like that made me feel better. It didn't. I didn't care about God. _

_I just wanted my own mother to tell me she loved me, to tuck me in at night with a bedtime story, to hold me when I cried, to tell me I was pretty and beautiful and to make all the monsters go away. For as long as I could remember, I always did all those things by myself. I read myself a bedtime story, tears usually streaming down my face as I heard love and laughter from Oliver's room that clearly had no room for me and I looked in the mirror every mirror and told myself I was pretty and beautiful. I remember reading in a magazine when I was that age that if you feel worthless or down, you should say that to yourself. _

_I always felt worthless and down. _

_I made all the pretend monsters go away, but some stuck with me and still are stuck with me everyday. They're just the real kind, the kind that creep up into your mind and set camp there for ages. _

_The minister began to stroke my hair. "You look tired, Emma. Why don't you let me tuck you in?" My eyes lit up a little bit. I sniffled, remembering how excited I was to have an adult like me. _

_"Really?" He smiled at me. "Sure. Lay down. I'll be right back." _

_I did as I was told, lying down comfortably on my bed. I began to doze off a little bit, and it felt like ages, waiting for the minister. I waited and I waited and just when I was about to fall asleep, I heard my door open again. I lifted my head. _

_There the minister was, standing before me. He was naked, from head to toe. I saw him lock the door. Suddenly, fear and panic snuck into me and he must have seen this. He rushed over to me, slapped me with a new force and made me look at him. _

_He covered my mouth and his eyes, I remember, went pitch black. They were no longer sweet or sympathetic; they were manic, greedy and hungry. _

_"Don't make a sound, you little bitch, or I'll have your brother and precious mommy killed. I'll kill you, too." I began to shake right away, feeling as though my entire life had frozen. _

_My lips trembled, tears falling down my cheeks. He slapped me again, causing me to tumble over my bed. "Stop crying, you weak little whore! Oh, come on, don't be scared. It'll be fun." _

_I felt sick to my stomach, trapped, as he got on top of me. I tried to squirm around, to get his body off of me, but of course, I was too small and too weak to do such. He pinned my arms down and smiled at me, licking his lips. He traced my face with his fingers. _

_"Poor little girl. Mommy hates you, daddy left you and no one seems to love you...No one at all..." He stated and he leaned down, his hot, gross breath on my cheek. He kissed my cheek, then my other one, and then my neck. _

_I whimpered at his touch. _

_"I can teach you what love is. I can show you." He began to undress me, pulling my pink nightgown off of me and tossing it on the ground. I was now only in my underwear and I had never felt so exposed, so degraded. I cried for mercy. _

_"Please...Please, I don't like this.." I remember whimpering to him, but he just slapped me instead. Every time I spoke, he slapped me. _

_It wasn't until I was entirely naked, in front of him and everything that I attempted to run. It was a bad idea, I knew that then, but I didn't want this to happen. Not to me, not to me. _

_"You little BITCH!" He yelled as I tried to run away from him, hitting him in the nuts. I remember reading someone like that once, if a man attacks you. Naked and cold, I began to run to my door, but it seemed like it was a mile away. _

_Legs shaky and scared, I tripped over one of my toys and I felt the minister grab me up by my hair. He made me look at him and he was smiling, that evil smile. _

_"You're a feisty, little one, aren't you? You're so tiny, but you're big. Hmm, just like your mother." He punched me and it felt like the wind had been sucked right out of me. He slapped me hard again. _

_"Huh, you like that, little bitch? You like that? You like it rough?" I couldn't speak, my mouth was glued shut. I remember wanting to die, wanting him to just kill me because nothing in the world compared to this, nothing at all. _

_He tied my bare hands and ankles to my bedpost and I had nowhere to run, nowhere to go. He gagged my mouth with a sock and found his way on top of me. He slivered like a snake, touching every part of me. My chest, my face, my hair, my vagina, my legs, my thighs, my lips. He kissed me, hard and greedy, and I remember he bit my tongue. _

_"Mmmm, yeah, mmm. You taste so good." _

_I felt vomit in the back of my throat, but I held back. He whispered other sweet things in my ear and then finally, he entered me. He moaned out in delight, in pleasure, and I cried out in pain. My screams were muffled from the sock in my mouth, but I remember feeling like I was going to split in two. I remember the clock next to me read eleven thirty-three. I remember how he kissed me all over, and pounded into me until blood trickled down my legs. _

_He hit me from time to time, to stop me from crying, but the pain was unbearable. I felt as if my head was going to explode. I had never been so humiliated, felt so dirtied and trashed. When he stopped, he got up, put his underwear back on and smiled at me. _

_"See, child? God loves everyone. He sends messengers to show you how much he loves you." I felt the vomit come up on me, but I knew if I did, I would choke. He came back over and kissed me, licking his lips. _

_"Sweet, sweet little girl. Best I've ever had. Remember, Emma, if you say one word, I'll kill you and your entire family." And with that, he walked out of my room. He kept me tied there the entire night, like an animal, and all I did was cry and cry and cry. Blood seeped through my sheets and I thought I was dying. _

_Why hadn't he just killed me? I was already dead now. Gone. _

_When I woke up the next day, and for several days after that, I was always untied. That meant he had come into my room and finally untied me during the night and the fact that he had even come into my room at all made me throw up. I didn't eat, sleep or speak for so long and the worst part was that no one seemed to notice or care. I remember crying all the time, not being able to walk or play gym. The nurse asked me what was wrong, but I never told her and she didn't care anyway. No one cared about little Emma Rowe. _

_He crept into my room every single night until I was twelve years old. I never uttered a word to my mother or Oliver, knowing that at least my mother wouldn't have cared. She just would have insisted that I brought it on myself and when push came to shove, even though I desperately wanted to be proven wrong, I wasn't. _

_When I told her, she slapped me, punched me and kicked me until I was a bleeding wreck on the floor. She called me a slut, a whore, accused me of always trying to ruin everything for her, and told me she wished I were never born at all. She told me she wanted to kill me, have me aborted, but she didn't want to get into trouble, that I wasn't even worth it to her. She never spoke of it to the minister, ever again, but she didn't seem to mind either way. _

_The next day, she moved in with him and announced she was pregnant with a little girl. I remember running to the bathroom, vomiting all over the place for three hours. I remember the harsh light of day each morning I woke up untied, but forever scarred. _

_That was the day I died. I died when I was five years old, at the hand of a raping minister who knew I had nothing left. _

_I went into the hospital a few days before she moved in with him, but that was another story, one that consisted of the why._

* * *

><p>I plucked at my own scars, my own hands, at the bandage that now covered my right hand. Doctor after doctor, nurse after nurse, came and checked on me, giving me my medication and checking my eyes, my face, my hands, anything to prove that I was broken enough to fix. They tried to talk to me, tried to console me, but I stayed on the floor, knees to my chest and face hidden.<p>

I didn't want anybody to hear the thoughts in my head.

"Well, girl, you've been in here for about a week now and haven't said a word. If you want to get out, just say something. Anything," Alaina said, entering that door that many have entered before her to try and get me to open up. I felt tired, so tired. I slept.

"They think this was an emotional break through for you, whatever that is. They think maybe it was good for you, the fact that you showed some other emotion besides sass," Alaina desperately tried to make light of the situation. She knelt down to me, checking my eyes with her light, but I kept looking away.

"I know this is probably the last thing your skinny ass wants to hear, but you need to eat something. Your blood pressure is dangerously low," She informed me and I still said nothing. I just shook my head, nuzzling my head into my shoulder.

I wasn't hungry.

Alaina sighed, anticipating that response from me. She got up and pulled a chair over, the chair that a nurse had to sit in the room constantly to make sure I wouldn't kill myself or something.

"Look, I know so many other people for the past few days have tried and talk to you, I get that. I also get that you're not ready to share, but...But if you want to talk, I'm here."

She then smiled, slightly, and I did, too. She pulled out a magazine, crossed her legs and began reading. I kept thinking back to the voices I had in my head. That one voice, a tone so cruel and unfeeling that it sent shivers down my spine. It wasn't my own, or my mother's or the minister's or one that I have ever heard before. It sounded like a demon's voice, always echoing in my head and haunting me ever since I could remember.

_She doesn't mean that. She doesn't want to listen to you. No one wants to hear your sob story, Esmeralda. _

I winced, the harsh tone and volume getting louder. _You're being weak, you know that, right? You're being a little pussy. You've been in here for five days and said nothing, nothing at all, and all you want to do is die. That's weak, and that kind of weakness will stay with you forever, sweetheart. Always. _

I bit down on my lip, trying not to cry. I had become so much more prone to crying, and it really fucking bugged me. I never cried, never before, but when that voice talked to me in such familiar tones, I wanted to sob openly. I wanted them to hear me cry, to realize how fucking monstrous they were. I wanted them to stop, to realize, just for a moment.

_Awwww. Tough little girl wants me to stop? Wow, that one word: Stop. Stop. Hmm. I remember Torch saying that to you every time you called her Torch. I remember Colleen saying that to you when you tortured her about her past. I remember Julie telling you that when you called her a fucking bitch who can't keep her own. I remember Olivia telling you that as she sobbed, pleading for you to stop calling her a fatass. And Beth, let's not forget, when you berated her time and time again. And you know who else I remember saying that? I seem to be blanking for a moment..._

"Stop. Stop! No...NO!" I exclaimed out loud and Alaina looked over at me, alarmed. She narrowed her eyes, confused.

"Emma?"

_You know who I'm talking about, or should I say whom? _

"NO! STOP IT, STOP IT! STOP IT!" I screamed, sobbing and banging my head, covering my ears. Alaina got up immediately and made me look at her with her thumb.

"Emma, Emma, honey, look at me. What is happening?"

_You didn't stop for them. You didn't stop, not at all. You remember the blood, right? You remember the screams? They begged you to stop, begged you to just smile for once..._

I cried out in pain, the visions smearing all over my head again, as if it had just happened. I felt unable to breathe as I cried out in pain. Alaina called for some other nurses, but there was nothing they could have done. I kicked and screamed, banging my head against the cement walls, the pavement so cool and cold against my hot, mangled and tortured head. I screamed and cried.

"GET OUT! GET OUT, PLEASE! PLEASE! GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" _I'm not in your head, Emma. I'm part of you. I'm with you always. I'm never leaving. I'm here until you die. Besides, I would say until I die, but that ship seems to have sailed, hasn't it, Emma? _

"NO! NO! I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY..." I cried out, breathlessly, and slid down against the wall. I felt my eyes close from exhaustion and I finally felt the sleep deprivation I've been avoiding. Not sleeping for five days, not even closing my bloodshot eyes never seemed to hurt me, but now, now all I wanted to do was sleep.

Alaina stroked my hair as she gestured for the other nurses to leave. She shushed me, soothingly, and laid me down on the bed.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry..." I kept singing, over and over again. My eyes felt heavy, my entire being felt heavy. I felt blankets, cool blankets and a washcloth on my forehead. The shushing from Alaina...

"Shhh, now, girl...You best close your eyes and relax. It's okay, it's going to be okay," I heard Alaina's voice ring over and over.

"Alaina, I'm not hungry, don't make me eat..."

"Hush, girl, don't worry...You're fine. Don't worry about that, you just put your head down and rest. Everything is going to be fine."

With Alaina's own blessing and power to shut out the voices, I closed my eyes and drifted off to a place that didn't taunt me, didn't haunt me or try and take me back to a place I had never wanted to be in. I felt her smooth hand stroke my hair as she shushed me still, and kept shushing until I couldn't hear anything but the faint, peaceful silence of the day, a day where I could sleep for once without screaming or dreaming of things that made me cry out every single night. It was peaceful and I was grateful.

* * *

><p>I heard screaming again today, which had meant that <em>she <em>was having another episode again. I rolled my eyes, leaning my head back as I walked down the hall with that new hot nurse. God, it had been a long time since I've fucked someone...

I saw her sigh, heavily, as she got to Doctor Paterson's office and then ran off to help in the quiet room. I rolled my eyes. As far as I was concerned, that bitch needed a wake up call.

"Hello, Tate. Please, take a seat," Doctor Paterson greeted me and I entered his office and sat down, cross-legged.

"How have you been adjusting?" To be honest, things weren't as horrible as I thought they were going to be. Besides the encounter with the wicked bitch of the mental hospital, everyone else was really supportive and nice. Courtney clung onto me, but I didn't mind. She reminded me of Addie, so I was used to it.

I shrugged. "Okay, I guess." He nodded, taking out his clipboard. I played with my hands, nervously. I hated being questioned and having to talk to people. Why couldn't they just leave me the fuck alone? I just wanted to go back to the room and read.

"Now, we've talked a lot about the high school and all that and while I do want to come back to that because it is so vital, I want to mention your relationship with a certain patient," I narrowed my eyes at him. As much as I might have wanted to fuck that skinny twin girl, or the rich girl with the blonde hair, I hadn't.

"Esmeralda Rowe." _Aw, fuck. Her? _

"What about her?" I asked, the displeasure in my voice evident. Doctor Paterson leaned back in his chair, pen in hand and stared at me, as if he were genuinely curious.

"As you probably know, Esmeralda is a bit of a handful. She _has _been here for three years and has an abusive relationship with many of the patients in here. However, what you have said to her the other day _was _hurtful and I just wanted to-"

"Wow, wow, wow. Wait? Are you trying to blame _me _for what happened to that bitch? Because as far as I'm concerned, Doctor Paterson, she had it coming."

And she did. What kind of person goes around taunting disabled people, or takes _joy _in hurting others? I may not be perfect, and I know I have hurt tons of people, but I've never stooped that low. Thinking about her made me angry, made me want to punch something in the face. I have never hit a girl before her, and it wasn't like I meant to, but when she mentioned the word _retard _like that, I knew I had no control.

"No, Tate, I'm not trying to blame you. However, Esmeralda _is _a patient in here, however, and she deserves respect just like everyone else." Fuck that. I narrowed my eyes.

"With all due respect, Doctor Paterson, she gives no one in this goddamn place respect. Not the patients, not the nurses and not the doctors either. She has no respect for anyone. Why does everyone let her get away with saying that shit?"

He just shifted in his seat and clicked his pen. My eyes were widened with anger, frustration. It was like this place was a couple of pussy parents and that bitch was the spoiled brat that got everything she wanted, all because she stomped her foot.

"Why does it bother you so much, Tate?" Nice spin.

"I don't know. It just seems..._unfair. _She constantly calls Courtney a retard to her face and it makes her cry! Colleen was sent to that fucking room for a day and when she came back, clearly still shaken, the bitch taunted her about it! Why is she even here? Why haven't you kicked her out yet?" I seemed to be angrier about the topic more than I thought I would. I didn't know why.

Doctor Paterson smiled, like he had just figured out something magnificent and I just cringed. Great, another doctor trying to figure me the fuck out. Fanfuckingtastic.

"Tate, do you see the connection here at all? You _hate _injustice, just like the bullies at school that preyed on your sister, and it enrages you like no other. You don't like things that are, like you said, unfair. Esmeralda is someone who can be classified as a bully, just like in school and-"

"Okay, okay, I get it. I get the connection, but still. This is supposed to be a fucking safe place and that _cunt _is-"

"She's another patient here as well, Tate. You must understand that. She has disorders and problems just like you and everyone else. When she is out of line, she is punished."

I scoffed. Yeah, right. The cunt had everyone wrapped around her fucking finger. Someone needed to beat the shit out of her.

I played with the hole in my jeans and took a deep breath, calming myself down. I said nothing as Doctor Paterson sighed.

"Have you met the newest patient in here, Tate? Donavan?" I looked up and shook my head. I had met him, just a simple hello and greeting in our all guy group with Danny, but that was it. Most of the time Danny just rambled on about shit no one ever listened to and I fell asleep. It wasn't until last week, in group with the bitch and all that I knew why he was even here in the first place.

Rape and murder. He had some balls.

"Well, he's on the same treatment as you. I can't disclose too much information, but you two should very much talk. Besides, due to the shortage of rooms, I'm afraid he will be you and Esmeralda's new roommate, at least until someone is discharged," Doctor Paterson paused and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Wait. Are you saying that a _rapist _and a _killer _has the same diagnosis as me?" Doctor Paterson shifted in his seat.

"No, Tate, you both are different patients and people, but all I was saying was that you two _are _similar in some ways. Don't judge a book by its cover, Tate. You should know that."

I continued to play with the ripped hole in my jeans and realized that if I had actually gone through the entirety of my _act, _I would have become a full-blown killer. Donavan said he had killed only two guys, but I would have killed eleven kids. I hadn't raped anyone, no, but I think murdering a bunch of kids proved to be worse somehow. To be honest, I didn't think of it much, because it all seemed like a blur to me right before my eyes.

I dreamt about it. I saw it happening, the whole thing. Me screaming at them, their faces red and their voices broken and pleading with me, and they were finally listening to what I was saying. The cold hand I had that gripped the gun, the sound of my combat boots on the floor, the agonizing cries.

I kind of laughed about it now. The first cry was from a girl named Julie Bowen. She was the head cheerleader and most popular girl at my school. She was a bitch to Addie, my little sister, and always had been. I wanted to shoot her so badly, and I relished in hearing her screams, her cries, and knowing that I had brought that on. Addie came home so many times, sobbing to our drunk of a mother who didn't love her at all, and I had to comfort my little sister in the best way I could. We were both so deprived of love, but as she shook in my arms with sobs, I was certain she was the only person I had ever truly loved.

My mother was a cocksucker and my father was dead.

If I had gotten to shoot someone that day, it would have been Julie Bowen. I wish I had gotten the chance to tell Addie that now.

"Doctor Paterson?" He looked up from writing.

"Yes, Tate?"

"Uh, tomorrow's Saturday. I read that Saturday is visiting day."

He smiled, nodding.

Turning slightly red, I shifted on the couch. "Do you know if, by any chance, anyone is coming to visit me?" He shifted through another sheet on his clipboard and went down the list.

"Hmmm...No, I'm sorry, Tate. Maybe there was a mix-up, though," I knew the truth, though. The cocksucker would never let Addie come and see me, her demented, psychopath of an older brother. I looked down and I wondered when I would get to see Addie again.

She had no one but me. _I'm such a fucking idiot, leaving her behind like that. Fucking douchebag. _

"You can, however, use this time to call someone. Ten minutes and I'm afraid it can only be a family member. We have caller ID, so if anyone does go against the rules, they're punished accordingly, but I don't think we'll have that problem with you, Tate," He smiled at me and I could tell he was relieved not to have a complete and total psychopath in here for a change.

I had to beg to differ, though.

I nodded, as he left the room to give me some privacy. I reached for the phone on his desk and stared at it in my hands. I was nervous, my palms sweating. I had missed my darling little sister, the only one who could make me smile and make me feel like I wasn't such a dick. She was the only one who loved me, too. The only one.

I slowly dialed the numbers and paused, hearing the beeping and waiting for the other line to pick up. _Please don't be Mom, Please don't be Mom, please don't be Mom..._

"Hello, this is the Langdon residence. This is Adelaide, how may I help you?" Instantly, I beamed. I had taught her that. Her eight year old year old, peppy little voice rang through my ears for the first time in about a week in a half and it felt great.

"Addie? It's...It's Tate." There was a pause and then a delightful scream of joy at the other end. I smiled, chuckling to myself.

"Tatey! Tatey, I miss you _so _much! I hate it here without you! Tatey, come home! I miss you!" I adjusted myself on the couch, beaming.

"I know, I miss you too, cutie. I miss you, too."

"How is your long vacation going?" I slightly frowned. The cocksucker must have lied to her, to keep her innocence about her big brother trying to shoot up the entire school.

Addie wouldn't know any better anyway.

"It's...it's good, but I miss you. Hopefully I'll get to come home and see you soon." I heard her gasp, happily.

"Home isn't the same without you, Tatey," She paused, as if hesitating to say something. I grew concerned right away.

"How do you mean, Addie?" Again, another pause.

"Mama's been real mean lately...She got a new boyfriend and Mama still doesn't like me...Says that I'm a burden," I heard the sadness in her voice and I suddenly felt rage and sadness and everything rush right into me. _That stupid fucking cunt. _

"Addie, you know none of that's true. Has she hurt you, Addie? Physically?" I was almost afraid to hear the answer. I heard her sigh on the other end.

"Sometimes...just as much as before." It broke my heart to realize that now that I wasn't there, I couldn't protect her. That never seemed to cross my mind when I attempted to shoot up my own school. I wanted so desperately to protect my baby sister, but I just ultimately ended up hurting her also.

What a fucking idiot I am.

"Adelaide, who are you on the phone with?" _Cocksucker. _

"Tate, Mama!" I heard Addie cry out in the background and a loud, popping noise. I knew what had happened-the cocksucker had slapped Addie across the face.

The phone rustled and I felt my fists clenching.

"Hello? Who is this? Tate?" I found my tongue and voice again.

"Constance, I swear to God, if you harm on more hair on her head, I will-"

Dial tone. She had hung up.

I stared down at the phone in my hands and I wanted to scream. I wanted to kill someone. My baby sister, my responsibilty, was going to be abused because of something _I _had done. I felt tears come into my eyes, helpless tears, and I had no control. I threw the phone, hard against the wall and it instantly broke. Doctor Paterson came rushing in, looking alarmed.

"Tate? Tate, what is the matter?" I glared at him, getting up and keeping my fists clenched together.

"I want to get the _fuck _out of here, that's the matter!" I yelled and stormed out of the office, slamming the door. I ignored the help and questions of the nurses, and even Courtney who asked for me. I stalked right past them and straight in my room.

Luckily, it was empty. No Donavan. No crazy bitch.

I slammed the door, found my bed and felt a few tears escape my eyes. I screamed out loud, into my pillow, like the pussy I was and cried. Hearing Addie's voice, hearing her be slapped like that, hearing that cocksucker's voice again-it drove me crazy.

It didn't matter what the whole world thought of me. I didn't care. All I cared about was protecting Addie, making sure she is safe, and now that I'm here, I have no control and it made my insides want to tear apart. I sat up and grinded my teeth together.

_I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here. _


End file.
